


love bites (so do i)

by kallibb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vampire Sex, bottom atsumu, its just sakusa is a vampire atsumu is human, summary is misleading there is no hurting, top sakusa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23541892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallibb/pseuds/kallibb
Summary: There's benevolence in the way he hurts.written for day three (tier 1 prompt: mouth/marks) of SakuAtsu week!
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 462
Collections: SakuAtsu Week 2020





	love bites (so do i)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like two hours and its kinda a mess but here are some words of literally just sex nothing else!! title taken from a song by halestorm bc I thought it fit accordingly lol

Not very many people know that Sakusa Kiyoomi has a metal table in his basement. Only two, in fact. And only these same two people know how Sakusa Kiyoomi _uses_ this table. Neither of them remembers how Kiyoomi came to own the table in the first place, and both of them are lying. It’s just easier to say they don’t remember than admit how Atsumu had pulled up an article on bloodplay with vampires entirely out of the blue, and how worked up the both of them had gotten.

Their dynamic is weird. _They’re_ just weird. Atsumu calls him at three in the morning, when he should be resting for the next day’s practice, when he knows Kiyoomi will be awake, just because--- _Y’know those tall, skinny white boys that eat fuck-all n’ never ever get fat? Means all that food just goes to their horse cocks, huh?_ \---and Kiyoomi hangs up. Atsumu mocks everything about Kiyoomi that there is to mock: his wrists, his penchant for cleanliness, his two little moles--- _Don’t vampires know you’re suppose’ta bite the neck, not the fuckin’ forehead?_ \---and Kiyoomi’s got a witty retort for everything that comes his way. It’s just what they do. This is just what they do.

But Kiyoomi’s being difficult today. It’s not new, he’s _always_ difficult, but today he’s making Atsumu wanna punch him in his goddamn beautiful face. And he might’ve given it a go, really, if he weren’t tied down. 

“Stop pulling at your restraints.” His voice comes somewhere near Atsumu’s foot, near where they keep the cleaning shit. How can he sound so calm? Atsumu swears his heart rate’s through the roof, his breathing coming quicker, sweat beading easier. It’s the goddamn metal table he’s on, the harsh lights above him, he tells himself. Uncomfortable as hell and making him squirm, that’s all. The damn metal smells like alcohol, too, messing with his senses and shit. Sakusa Kiyoomi having complete control over him ain’t got a damn thing to do with it. 

“Hurry _up_ , then,” Atsumu grumbles, yanking his arms around just to be fussy, hearing the unforgiving clank of metal and feeling the cuffs bite into his skin. “Why’re ya takin’ so long today?” 

“Would you rather me stop?” 

“Would I rather ya stop---you fucker, that’s the last fuckin’ thing I want and you know it, fuckin’---” The press of the alcohol wipe to his neck is startling. It always is. Atsumu’s first instinct is to jerk away from it, to press the side of his blindfolded face to the table and gasp helplessly. Instead, he grits his teeth and tenses his neck while Kiyoomi wipes him down in methodical circles.

“Good boy.” His voice is a soft murmur, and Atsumu hates, hates, hates what it does to him. Hates even more the tenderness that hides behind that syrupy condescending tone. He trails a single cold finger down Atsumu’s neck, his collarbones, his arm, sending shivers down his spine, playing with him and watching him twitch just because he can. Asshole. 

“Shut the fuck up n’ stick your goddamn teeth in me, would ya?” His own voice is a wreck. It trembles and cracks and breaks all over the place, and he’s hard. That’s practically a given. Kiyoomi’s an expert at avoiding his dick and not giving him any reprieve, but Atsumu’s fine with waiting. What’s coming next is worth waiting for.

Kiyoomi snorts and forcibly yanks Atsumu’s chin up. His voice is so close now. “What if I said I like seeing you like this? All tied up for me. I’ll keep you here as long as I want. Maybe next time I’ll gag you so you can’t run your stupid fucking mouth all the time, huh? Spread naked on my table, looking so pretty for me, but you ruin it with your squealing.” That had been one of the unexpected outcomes of their experimenting. The words. They spilled out of Kiyoomi’s mouth unbidden, like having Atsumu unable to see and unable to touch had translated into Kiyoomi talking some of the filthiest shit either of them had ever heard. Atsumu sure as hell wasn’t gonna complain.

But Miya Atsumu, at his core, is a self-absorbed little shit who has to get his way. “Next practice, I’m servin’ every single ball straight at yer fuckin’ head, Omi, and yer gonna like it--- _ngh_.”

The alcohol can’t taste good. He knows it doesn’t, and they don’t use the wipes when they have regular sex, but it works well to get a rise out of Atsumu, to get him really worked up and wanting it. It probably burns bitter on Kiyoomi’s tongue, the tongue that’s laving over Atsumu’s neck, worshipful and greedy, ripping whines from his throat that sound entirely alien. He wants more. Kiyoomi nips at the soft skin, a sweet little teaser of what’s to come. 

The exasperated near-disgust is evident in his voice. “You really never shut up, do you? You want it so bad, don’t you, you little--” The blindfold comes off, and Atsumu is left squinting up at his boyfriend’s pretty face. That’s a part of this thing they do: Kiyoomi takes away his senses and then gives them back, one by one. There’s benevolence in the way he hurts. Kiyoomi’s naked too, dick hard from what Atsumu can see, and that makes him smirk a little. _Yeah, his words say he thinks I’m an annoying motherfucker, but his actions say he’s gonna fuck me six ways to Sunday, so really, who’s the winner here?_

“N--- _hah_ . No. But ya like me anyway.” Atsumu tilts his face up. “Get down here n' kiss me.” And Kiyoomi obliges. His hands are cold when they touch his cheeks, the body temperature of not-quite-human making goosebumps pop up wherever those fingers trail. It’s annoying, not being able to use his hands to clutch at Kiyoomi’s curls and neck and shoulders, but the way he bites his lip and does _something_ with his tongue to make him absolutely melt is worth it. They kiss for a long while, long enough that Atsumu’s head feels floaty and wonderful. It feels so nice that Atsumu would be fine just doing this and not---mm, actually, no, he wouldn’t. He wants to come, and he wants Kiyoomi’s fangs in him when he does. He reaches out and kicks Kiyoomi’s thigh instead. “When’re ya gonna stick ‘em in me?” 

That gets him a glare. “You want it so bad, then ask for it.”

Atsumu just squares his jaw and glares right back. “Gimme yer fuckin’ teeth, asshole.”

Mistake. Kiyoomi presses a hand down on Atsumu’s bare chest, hard enough that his head falls to the table with a thunk. He hears the click of a lube bottle opening, and before he can even react indignantly, there’s a cold finger slicked up with cold lube pushing into him. 

“ _Ah_ \---shit.” Distantly, he hears the cuffs clink as he yanks his arms up. He pushes down onto that finger, working it deeper and deeper inside of him, and it’s not _enough_ . He wants more, faster, _now_.

Kiyoomi leans down and bites his earlobe, jerking a moan out of Atsumu. “Ask nicer.”

Atsumu’s so completely gone, lost in the haze of needing something more right this second, that he obliges. “Please, please--- _ngh_ , Omi, O-Omi, please---”

“Good boy.” There’s no condescension anymore, just pure revelry, and Atsumu would be gloating if---

The first press of Sakusa’s fangs into Atsumu’s neck hurts. It always hurts. He knows he’s moaning, throat producing noises that he can’t keep in anymore, because the rush of pure pleasure that comes after the pain is heaven.

“Fuck---Oh, _fuck_ , Omi--- _ngh_ \---” Kiyoomi chooses that moment to press another finger into him, sweet and slow, blood dripping down his neck and Atsumu sobbing for how good it feels. He needs to touch him. “Omi, my arms, can you---please, _ah_ , God,” he babbles, no longer caring what needy shit comes out of his mouth. Uncuffing him means that mouth goes away, means those fingers go away, but once the cuffs are off, those impossibly soft lips and cold fingers are right back to where they were. Atsumu grinds down, rocking on his hand and clutching at Kiyoomi’s back. 

When Kiyoomi pulls back, lapping up at the rivulets of blood running down his body, it’s easy to tell that he’s affected, too. The neck wound begins to close almost immediately, some byproduct of the weird shit in vampire fangs that makes the biting feel so good. His skin is flushed, his breaths coming in pants. God, Atsumu wants him.

“Three,” he pleads, whimpering. “Please, more, Omi, th-three, c’mon.” 

Kiyoomi presses a third finger in, and Atsumu sees stars, arching his back and pressing down onto those lovely fingers. “I want to eat you up,” he murmurs into Atsumu’s neck. His lips trail across his chest. “Devour you entirely. You’d let me, wouldn’t you?” 

“ _Mmph_ \--yeah, y-yeah.” Kiyoomi curls his fingers, rubbing Atsumu’s prostate unforgivingly. “ _Ah---ngh_ , shit, shit, _shit_ , Omi, feels so good,” he whines. He’s lost the ability to make sentences, reduced to a moaning, squirming mess under Kiyoomi’s mouth and hands. 

Kiyoomi takes his fingers out, placing his forearms next to Atsumu’s head, and presses his hips against Atsumu’s, tearing a broken moan out of his throat. “What do you want?” 

“You. I want---f-fuck me, please, Omi, now, _now---_ ”

Kiyoomi takes a hand and tilts Atsumu’s hips up, pushing inside, thick and throbbing and stretching his rim. Kiyoomi gasps, the sound registering faintly in Atsumu’s mind. Fuck, Kiyoomi’s _big_ . Atsumu feels so _full_.

“ _Oh--_ yes, _yes_ , fuck, Kiyoomi--- _ngh_.” Kiyoomi pulls back, slow slow slow, and fucks his hips forward, making Atsumu whine and pull Kiyoomi’s hair. “Bite---Bite me again, please, please, Omi---”

“Fuck---you’re _tight_. And you’re---noisy,” he grunts, accentuating each word with a thrust of his hips. “The neighbors are gonna hear you, whining and moaning and begging for my fangs and cock, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Want them to hear how much of a cockwhore you are for me?”

They’re in a basement, and Atsumu knows nobody will hear, but the words make him hot, make him shove his hips down onto Kiyoomi’s cock, deeper, faster, _more_. He grips his own cock in his hand, stroking and twisting, spreading his precome around on the head, and Kiyoomi sinks his fangs into the other side of his neck, making his cock jerk and pleasure run through his veins.

“Omi,” he cries, “Kiyoomi, ‘m comin’, fuck--- _ah_ , ‘m _comin’_ ,” he moans, and his back arches as he sprays hot spurts of come all over himself. Kiyoomi fucks into him once, twice, three times more and follows, cock twitching and jerking as he comes inside Atsumu’s hole groaning his name, easy as anything. 

They lie there for a while, breaths syncing, chest to chest. Kiyoomi peppers kisses across Atsumu’s jaw, sucking hickeys right on top of the bite marks on his neck, and runs his hands down his body. He’d never in his life have guessed that Sakusa Kiyoomi’s a sucker for aftercare cuddles.

“Yer skin’s warmer,” Atsumu remarks sleepily, working his hands through Kiyoomi’s soft curls. 

A soft murmur replies. “Your blood.” Circulating through Kiyoomi’s body and warming it up. _His blood._

“Mm.” They cuddle for a few more minutes before Atsumu needs to breathe and gets Sakusa’s big 6’4’’ body off him, wincing as come and lube dribbles out of his hole. He hops off the table, making a face when the come and lube starts making its merry way down his legs, and wobbles his way towards the basement bathroom. The bite mark is still visible, but healing fast. “Remind me why we don’t do this every day?” he calls to Kiyoomi.

“Because you could die of blood loss.” Oh, right. That. What a pity. Atsumu smiles to himself as he presses down on his skin, looking in the mirror and admiring how the blood rushes up red and pretty to that spot. The marks don't last. They never do. But that’s okay. Once they fade, they can just do it all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> come scream w me on my week old twitter @kalliartpage (its a trap there's no art)


End file.
